


Possibilities

by UrsulaAngstrom



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 20:09:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5979598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UrsulaAngstrom/pseuds/UrsulaAngstrom





	Possibilities

This story was written for the Multilingual Challenge on SH911LJ that was posted by Dawnebeth in January. The deadline was Valentine's Day. The Challenge Parameters were as follows:

It's two weeks until Valentine's day-and less than that until Ash Wednesday and Lent. Or just make up your own theme. However, write a 500 to 1000 word story using at least one word in a different language than English. Extra value points (haha) if you use two or more words in two or more languages. Have it finished by Feb 14th. 

No fair using: "Donde esta Ramon."

I hope you enjoy reading Possibilities as much as I enjoyed writing it.

AUTHOR's NOTE: I could not include any of the distinctive punctuation/pronunciation marks shown on the Internet translation sites I consulted to obtain worlds in any language but English that are used in this story (because LJ objected to it when I tried to post those segments as I saw them on my computer results.) So I copied the words letter-by-letter in each word so readers would see the content. Any grammatical errors or translation errors made in those sections are the fault of those sites. I typed in How do you say this (in whatever language I wanted to use) and cut and pasted the results provided into my story. My apologies to any reader who fluently speaks the languages I used if there are any glaring errors. I did the best I could with what the Net provided. The only language I speak is English but etymology is a subject that fascinates me so I could not resist the urge to try and write a story in response to this Challenge. 

Myths and legends from any culture on earth fascinate me and some are mentioned directly and inferred throughout this story. The origins and meanings of names is a lifelong fascination with me too, so I used names that had meanings relevant to the plot, the cultures, traditions, and legends I referred to in my story also.

Ursula Angstrom

*********************************************************************************************************

Possibilities

by Ursula Angstrom

During their weekly phone call, Starsky’s mother informed him, “Kasia and Myrtle will be vacationing in San Francisco the last week of January and part of February.”

Starsky’s body language did not match the expression on his face when he said, “That’s nice.” Hutch wondered why his partner suddenly looked like a surprised deer caught in the beams of oncoming headlights. 

Hutch quit misting Starsky’s new Boston fern when Dave hung his head woefully and massaged his forehead like he had a migraine. His partner was fine before Althea called. Now he looked nauseous.

Concerned, Hutch paid more attention to eavesdropping and less attention to the plants. Attempting to be inconspicuous, Hutch made a U-turn from Starsky’s balcony wandering back into the living room of his buddy’s apartment.

Hutch tensed when Starsky asked, “What’s their itinerary?” 

Starsky’s brother Nick had caused nothing but trouble the last time he came to visit. The last thing Starsky needed was for his gangster-wannabe brother to stir up another hornet’s nest of problems in or near their jurisdiction.

They, who? Hutch wondered fearing Nick had gotten some floosie pregnant while he was cheating on the mobster’s daughter he was currently dating. 

“Myrtle wants to see the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz. Kasia is more interested in taking one of those tours of celebrity homes in Los Angeles.”

“Why?” Starsky asked as he continued pacing as far as the phone cord tethers would allow. “Most of the movie stars she likes are dead.”

Relieved, Hutch looked out the patio door of Starsky’s Treehouse and thanked the stars he could barely see that it was an older member of Starsky’s family coming to visit. Someone older than Althea based on what he had overheard so far…

“Could you introduce them to Steve Hanson?” Althea asked. “Kasia has a crush on him.”

“Since when?”

“Since she found out that you and Hutch worked as stuntmen on the last movie he made.”

“He blew us off as soon we arrested Wally Stone. I’m sure he doesn’t even remember our names.”

“WHAT?” Althea was outraged. 

Starsky knew his mother well enough to quickly pull the phone away from his ear or Althea would deafen him when the harangue commenced.

“You saved his life! Wally Stone pretended to be dead! He skulked around the set of that movie like a ghoul killing people!”

“We could introduce them to Wally.” Starsky quipped. “He’s not going anywhere for the rest of his life.”

Hutch thought that was hilarious, but Althea was NOT amused.

“Den einai mia expnyi aleck!” Althea Starsky scolded her son in Greek.

Smiling at his partner, Starsky said, “Hutch is a bad influence on me.”

“Don’t blame your impertinence on Ken,” Althea scolded.

“Hutch is proud of being a smart aleck, Ma. You know what Pop always said: ‘Learn From The Best And Forget The Rest.’”

Chuckling, Hutch said, “You are the only person who can insult me and compliment me at the same time.”

“I’m gifted,” Starsky boasted.

“You’re incorrigible!” Althea scolded, but Starsky could hear the smile in his mother’s voice. “Both of you,” Althea murmured affectionately.

David’s father, God rest his soul, had the same type of gallows humor because Mike had also been a cop. Her oldest son had followed in his father’s footsteps in a different city. Althea was glad David had a partner he could trust. Althea liked Ken Hutchinson. Ken and David had become friends as well as partners. Their rapport reminded her of the intense bond twins often shared. They had become closer than brothers over the years. Meeting Hutch had alleviated many of Althea’s fears.

David talked about Hutch so often, and with such devotion, Althea often wondered if they had become partners off the job too. 

Watching her son interact with Ken Hutchinson had convinced Althea that her Nigerian friend Obidiya Adeyemi was correct when she said, “There is a proverb in my country that applies to David and Ken: ‘You can tell lovers by their faces.’ The emotions I see in their eyes, and the nuances of their expressions when they are together, transcend anything I see in their faces when they are talking to anyone else. They may not be lovers now, Thea, but one day they will be. It is destined. You felt this is as strongly as I did. It’s only a matter of time.”

Obidiya had met Ken and David when they came to New York to participate in the New Year’s Eve festivities in Times Square during their rookie year on the force. Her friend and confidant had confirmed what Althea suspected. Obidiya was intrigued by the dynamics of their scintillating rapport too.

Althea wanted grandchildren; but more than anything else she wanted her son to be happy. David was happiest when he was with Ken Hutchinson: on or off the job.

That’s why Althea felt obligated to warn her son, “Kasia is probably coming there to meddle. It’s no coincidence that her vacation coincides with Gromniczna. You will be 35 in March and you’re not married yet.”

“So?” Starsky bristled. 

Surprised by Starsky’s umbrage, Hutch stopped filling up the misting bottle from the tap in the kitchen sink. Starsky was always chivalrous when he talked to his mother, even when she annoyed him. Growling at his mother was unprecedented.

Althea sighed. “You know how old-fashioned she is. Remember that she was born in the Old Country in 1891. She still believes in Polish traditions and superstitions from other centuries.”

“Gromniczna only applies to unmarried Christian women. I’m a Jewish man.”

“In Kasia’s generation men and women married young. To her 35 is middle aged.” 

“That’s ridiculous! Lots of people Dad’s side of the family lived until they were almost 90. She’s 87!” 

“Do the math. In ten years you will be 45. In her mind she has one foot in the grave and she wants to get you and Nicky married off before she dies.”

“Is that why she’s bringing Myrtle?” Starsky demanded.

“Why is that bad?” Hutch whispered, unable to stand the suspense one moment longer. Starsky looked angry and freaked out.

“Aunt Myrtle is a matchmaker,” Starsky told his worried friend.

“Uh oh,” Hutch said, more panicked than Starsky.

Hutch felt like he was in a car stuck on railroad tracks in the path of an oncoming train!

If Raavi Bhattacharya is right about Hindu theories regarding Karma this could get dicey, Hutch thought. 

Maggie McMillan asked Abby to go to the station as a ploy to fix Dave up with her pretty young friend. Hutch deliberately misled Starsky after Abby arrived making his buddy think that Mrs. McMillan had sent a much older woman to go out with Dave instead of coming herself.

Fearing that Maggie (an elderly crackpot who frequently came to the station claiming to be the victim of crimes that never happened) was trying to fix him up with one of her 60 or 70-year-old friends, Starsky begged Hutch to talk to Abigail Crabtree and make up a plausible excuse for why he was too busy to go out with her while he hid inside of Captain Dobey’s office until Miss Crabtree left.

Curious, Starsky asked Dobey to peek into the squadroom to see if Mrs. McMillan’s friend believed the lie he had asked Hutch to tell her. That’s when he and Dobey realized that Hutch had already seen the beautiful young blond woman and wanted Abby for himself. Hutch deviously chose his words very carefully so Starsky would jump to the wrong conclusions and make assumptions that were far from the truth. 

Hutch invited Abby to go on a date with him so Mrs. McMillan would not be disappointed and Abby would not feel like she had been wasting her time doing a favor for Maggie. Doing that made Hutch a usurper when he thwarted Starsky’s chance to meet a lovely woman. 

Hutch cleverly manipulated the circumstances to his advantage, and Starsky’s detriment. Instead of doing what was honorable, Hutch did something sly. 

One of the Hindu proverbs the swami had inscribed and hung on the walls of the ashram where Hutch took yoga classes said: Against love and karma there is no defense. 

Swami Bhattacharya had warned his students, “Karmic paybacks can be Hell.” 

Hutch had dated Abby for almost a year before they broke up. A thug named Tommy Marlowe knocked on the door and shoved his way into Venice Place while Hutch was on duty and Abby was alone at his place making dinner for Ken in anticipation of a romantic tryst that evening after his shift at Metro Precinct ended.

His neighbor, who lived in the apartment across the hall, called the station and Hutch arrived to find paramedics in his living room and Abby beaten, bleeding, and barely conscious, cowering under a blanket on the floor. A creep named Arthur Solkin had paid Tommy Marlowe to attack Abby because Artie despise him. Attempted rape was also part of the vicious vendetta. 

Tommy did this because a criminal named Arthur Solkin had a grudge against Hutch and Marlowe was the enforcer Artie used whenever he wanted someone he hated beaten up or killed. Attacking Abby and rigging a car bomb to explode and burn Ken’s hand when he tried to open his trunk by sticking the key in the lock were just two of the criminal acts perpetrated during Artie’s reign of terror. 

Already frustrated by the turmoil of broken dates, and other issues because Hutch was a cop, Abby had been on the verge of breaking up with Hutch before the assault happened. Traumatized by coming so close to death, Abby left Bay City and moved back home. Hutch never saw or heard from her again.

During a recent class involving discussions of the spiritual aspects of Hinduism, Raavi said, “Intentions matter. They will affect your karma in positive or negative ways based on the motives behind your actions. Karma guarantees the you will never be happy at the expense of someone else.” 

The swami’s words, and memories of the devious prank he pulled on Starsky involving Abby, came back to haunt Ken Hutchinson when he asked, “What’s Gromniczna?”

“Gromniczna involves some kind of Polish belief that goes back to the Pagans. Gram still believes that it’s shameful not to be married by Gromniczna, which happens on February 2nd.”

“Groundhog’s Day?” Hutch scoffed. 

“Yeah. But in Poland how many more weeks Winter will last is based on whether bears see their shadows, not groundhogs.”

“Huggy’ll love that,” Hutch teased, trying to laugh off his sudden premonition of impending doom.

Ken Hutchinson prided himself on being a logical, rational person who believed in scientific data, not superstitions. But certain experiences during his life, such as meeting psychics like Joe Collandra, and other people who seemed to possess paranormal abilities unsettled him; especially after their encounter with Papa Theodore, the charismatic Voodoo Bokor.

Skepticism, like superstitions, endured for myriad reasons. The tenacity of certain habits and beliefs were more powerful than most people realized. 

Hutch’s amusement didn’t last long when Starsky explained, “Myrtle is a Pagan who claims to make love potions that work. Gram is bringing her to Bay City because I’m turning 35 in March and she wants more great-grandchildren before she dies.”

“Why are women so obsessed with having babies?” Hutch grumbled. “There’s a population explosion! There aren’t enough jobs or natural resources to allow the masses to thrive. That’s why poverty and famine are rampant.”

Surprised by Hutch’s vehemence, Starsky asked, “Is that why you don’t have kids yet?” 

“Yes. There are plenty of kids who are already here who need love. Orphans need foster parents and parents willing to adopt them. I’ve always wanted kids, but one of many reasons why I divorced Nancy was because she lied about being okay with the idea of adoption. Then Vanessa left me because she didn’t want to be married to a man who didn’t make enough to support her in the style she thought she deserved, let alone adding a child to the mix. That’s why I became a mentor with Big Brothers Big Sisters.”

Hutch had been mentoring Kiko Ramos for years. When they met Molly Edwards after she had been orphaned, Hutch helped Mrs. Ramos adopt “Pete”, after they arrested the creeps who murdered the girl’s father. Elena and Kiko were so proud when Molly asked them if she could change her surname from Edwards to Ramos one the one-year anniversary of the day she officially became a member of their family when the adoption was finalized.

“Do you want children, David?” Althea asked, seizing the opportunity this conversation gave her to ask her son about a topic that was important to her.

“Yeah, but not yet. I’m not ready to settle down and raise a family, Ma. I always figured I’d do that when my hair had some gray in it. Then I would look wise.”

Hutch couldn’t tell if Starsky was serious or joking. Starsky could be as enigmatic as a sphinx when he was bluffing and charmingly evasive when he was avoiding a direct answer to an intrusive question. In either scenario Starsky used banter to distract people. His partner was The Master of Distraction.

“Then you are in BIG trouble, Davey. Kasia’s not going to be alive when you’re 50. She and Myrtle are going to try and to marry you off LONG before you’re 40.”

“Why?” Starsky persisted. “Charlie Chaplin fathered a son when he was 73.”

Althea groaned in dismay. “Don’t use THAT example when you argue with Kasia! You know she’ll fixate on the scandals Chaplin was embroiled in. She will verbally bludgeon you with the fact that Chaplin married Eugene O’Neill’s daughter when she was 18 and he was thirty years older than she was.”

“Thirty-six years older,” Starsky corrected.

Exasperated, Althea groaned. “Are you listening to me?” 

“Yes. Chaplin married her when she was 18-years-old and they were married for eighteen years. He was 73 when he sired his last child.”

“Like you know anything about numerology!” Althea scoffed. “Do NOT start an argument with your grandmother using numbers you think are significant when Myrtle is around. She’s probably an expert in Polish numerology too! She’s a witch!”

Starsky’s thick curls couldn’t muffle all the sound of his mother’s ranting when he tried to smother the receiver with his hair so Althea’s indignation would not puncture his eardrums.

“WHAT?” Hutch roared, panicking when he heard the word ‘witch’.

“Easy, Thor,” Starsky crooned. 

Hutch sat down on the couch so fast Dave felt like a cougar was pouncing off a mountain onto the sofa! 

“Ma, quit exaggerating!” Starsky scolded. “You’re freaking Hutch out!” 

Draping a comforting arm around his partner’s tense shoulders Starsky tried to reassure his worried pal. He could tell by the anxious expression on Hutch’s face that his buddy feared Aunt Myrtle was an occultist like Papa Theodore. “Myrtle doesn’t cast negative spells. If she did that would ruin all the positive energy and good things she is trying to conjure into people’s lives.”

“Do her magic spells work?” Hutch demanded.

“Sometimes,” Starsky replied.

The rueful expression on Starsky’s face did nothing to alleviate Hutch’s fears. Ken’s dread increased as he tried to figure out all the emotions his friend was telegraphing by studying Starsky’s face and body language. 

When Hutch was not comforted by the reassuring one-arm hug, Starsky said, “Ma, can I call you back? It’s going to take me a while to explain this to Hutch.”

“I understand,” Althea assured her worried son. “Call me next week. I called you first because this was important.”

Althea’s friends envied her because she had a good son who called his mother often. Phones worked both ways, but mothers felt honored when their children called them just to find out how they were doing. “You never call,” was a common complaint uttered by aggrieved mothers; especially mothers who had only sons and no daughters. Nicky never called unless he needed money or he was mired in some kind of trouble. David was a mensch.

“Thanks, Ma.”

“I love you, Davey.”

Smiling, Starsky said, “I love you too, Ma.”

Hutch could tell Starsky was stalling when his partner hung up the phone and put it back on the endtable near the white chair before he rose and wandered into the kitchen to get a couple beers out of the refrigerator. Starsky twisted the cap off a cold bottle of Bay City Brew and handed it to Hutch.

“Thanks,” Hutch sighed as he took a thirst-quenching swallow. Hoping the alcohol would calm his jangled nerves, Hutch admitted, “This business about Myrtle and your grandmother has me spooked.”

“Me too,” Starsky confessed, wishing he had a shot a whiskey or something stronger to drink in the house.

“Why?” Hutch persisted, as worries continued to gnaw at him.

Typical Virgo, Starsky thought affectionately remembering things he had read about Hutch’s birth sign in astrology books. Virgos were analytical. They needed to know: who, what, where, when, how, and why about everything. Virgos were good at solving problems. They liked to figure things out. That’s one of the reasons why Virgos made good scientists, engineers, and investigators. Hutch loved to contemplate what made people tick. 

He also liked to take stuff apart to find out how things worked. The problem was, Hutch did not have enough patience to put anything back together once he had demolished it. 

Like Celeste, the astrology enthusiast who ran the Zodiac Café once said, “People are more than just their Sun Sign traits. That’s why laymen think astrology is bunk when they just read daily horoscopes in the newspaper or summaries of Sun Sign personality traits in one book. There are many other factors in a zodiac natal chart that can explain other personality traits that you or people you know have.”

Hutch wanted logical, rational explanations for things that happened and how people behaved, but life was far too complicated to be predictable. People were even more unpredictable than events.

Starsky doubted his explanation would ease his friend’s mind. 

“My Aunt Myrtle was trained by a thaumaturge,” Starsky explained as they sat back down on his couch facing each other.

“A dramaturge is someone who writes plays for the theater,” Hutch brooded. “What’s a thaumaturge?

“Someone who performs wonders or works miracles,” Starsky explained.

“WHAT?” Hutch roared, his voice booming like thunder again.

Hutch had a mellifluous speaking and singing voice but he could roar like a mountain lion, or shout as loud as a clap of thunder when he yelled. When Starsky found out his buddy was Norwegian he nickname Hutch ‘Thor’ because that was the name of the Norse Thunder God. 

“You’re NOT listening, Blintz. I said Myrtle was TRAINED by a thaumaturge. I didn’t say she WAS a thaumaturge.”

Hutch tried to calm down but his thoughts were racing faster than his galloping heartbeat. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was having a premonition of doom.

“I’m used to you making my head spin but this stuff is causing a whirlwind inside my skull,” Hutch grumbled irritably. “I feel like a Viking trapped on a sinking ship being sucked into the Saragasso Sea.”

“Is that a bad place?” Starsky worried. The expression on Hutch’s face was grim. Hutch was the Sea Scout. Starsky was just learning how to sail thanks to Ken’s tutelage.

“Not really. Metaphorically, certain attributes of the Saragasso Sea have wriggled into literature and folklore for thousands of years turning it into a graveyard for lost ships like the modern-day legends about the Bermuda Triangle myths. Some modern scholars in Scandinavia think that it was the gyres that spin in the Saragasso Sea that made Viking ships veer off coarse and enabled Leif Erikkson and his crew to discover the North America continent 500 years before John Cabot discovered Newfoundland again in 1497 for King Henry VII of England.”

“I still can’t believe that American school kids are taught that Christopher Columbus discovered America when he actually discovered the Bahamas. Your Viking ancestors discovered the New World half a millennium before other European nations did!” Starsky marveled.

“Ponce de Leon was the first Europen explorer who actually stepped foot on what became part of the United States somewhere near St. Augustine in September of 1513,” Hutch said.

“Yet Leif Erikkson and Viking colonists settled in Canada 500 years before that,” Starsky said remembering what Hutch had taught him the first time they went sailing.

“The Viking colonies were abandoned, but the Spanish probably learned about the existence of lands beyond England from talking to Viking sailors trading and raiding in their part of the world,” Hutch said.

Talking about Viking history calmed Hutch down just as Starsky knew it would. Smiling at his astute partner, Hutch said, “Okay, explain thaumaturgy to me. I think I’m ready to deal with this.” 

When Starsky raised his eyebrows skeptically, studying the stormy expression on Hutch’s face, Ken growled, “Maybe.”

“Okay,” Starsky reluctantly began, because Hutch deserved to know the truth as told to him by his relatives and neighbors in Brooklyn. “A Pagan occultist named Lubomierz taught Myrtle many things—but not everything he knew—before he died. That’s why some people in the Old Neighborhood believe Aunt Myrtle is a miracle worker and some people think she is a jinx. Sometimes her love potions backfire.”

“HOW?” Hutch worried, growling as loud as distant thunder rumbling across the Plains.

“Annalisa Garabaldi married a bigamist,” Starsky explained.

Putting his head in his hand, massaging his temples with his thumb and the ring finger of his right hand, Hutch groaned, “Why was this Myrtle’s fault?”

Hutch head was spinning faster. Ken felt he was riding on a carousel whirling around at warp speed!

“Myrtle claims Annalisa should have learned more about the man she married before she eloped with the guy. Myrtle makes love potions; she’s not clairvoyant like Joe Collandra is, and like Lubomierz supposedly was,” Starsky explained. “Myrtle always tells people, ‘I can’t see or predict the future; all I can do is make love-philters to attract your soulmate. The rest is up to you. Caveat emptor.”

The scowl on Hutch’s face was as scathing as his verbal rebuke. “If Myrtle tells people ‘buyer beware’ in Latin then they should realize they are being scammed!”

“It’s a clever disclaimer,” Starsky agreed.

“Are you warning me that we may have to arrest your aunt for fraud?” Hutch growled.

“Nah. She knows we’re cops. Myrtle won’t do anything that we could bust her for. She never accepts money for her services.”

“There goes my idea to disguise my voice and call Bunco so Ryan and Mehaffey can arrest her,” Hutch complained.

“Don’t do that!” Starsky pleaded. “She’ll put a hex on you!”

“I thought you said Myrtle doesn’t do dark magic!” Hutch ferociously reminded his partner.

“Not intentionally. But she might if you piss her off. Don’t antagonize her, Hutch. She can get spiteful and say nasty things about people.”

“Everybody can!” Hutch ranted.

“Yeah, but when a Pagan trained by a thaumaturge says things they’ll regret later other people will regret it MORE!” Starsky warned. “Lots of cultures believe that once you say something the wind carries your wishes to spirits who make things happen. Don’t jinx yourself by making Aunt Myrtle mad! Promise me!”

Glowering, Hutch said, “If I promised you that I’d be lying, Starsk. The best I can do is tell you ‘I’ll try’. I’m losing my temper NOW and I haven’t even met Myrtle yet.”

“Don’t laugh when you do,” Starsky warned, knowing how skeptical his partner could be. “You’ll take one look at those sweet little old ladies and think they’re harmless, but Myrtle has made love potions for childless couples who haven’t been able to conceive for YEARS and suddenly women get pregnant. And this was DECADES before fertility drugs like Clomifene was prescribed in late ‘60’s to help women who have problems ovulating get pregnant. My cousin Leah took Clomifene and it helped her get pregnant when nothing else worked. Before drugs like that existed people went to thaumaturges like Lubomierz. Myrtle claims he taught her all about herbs that help infertile couples conceive children.”

“That’s not possible!” Hutch protested. “The infertile couple probably had sex more often believing the potion would work magic if they took it every time they made love. The more often you have sex, the more you increase your odds of conception. It’s cause and effect. No magic involved.”

“That’s Virgo logic,” Starsky affectionately retorted. “You want plausible explanations for the inexplicable. Call Liu Xiong and ask him if herbs exist that alleviate infertility. You buy Chinese herbal remedies from Liu all the time. He would know.”

Hutch grabbed Starsky’s left hand and looked at the time on his buddy’s watch. Ken’s pocket watch was at Gem City Jewelers being repaired.

“It’s after nine. Liu’s is closed,” Hutch said. Kneeling on the couch cushion Hutch leaned across Starsky and grabbed the phone off the endtable.

Chuckling, Starsky playfully swatted his partner’s ass. “I could have handed you that,” Starsky teased.

“I’m calling Bao,” Hutch announced dialing the phone he plunked down on his lap. “She might know Liu’s home number.”

Bao Chen was Starsky’s downstairs neighbor. They had met Mrs. Chen while investigating vandalism and death threats scrawled on the walls of the Bay City Cultural Diversity Center where Bao worked as a translator. The gifted linguist spoke nine languages fluently. After she retired from working at the United Nations, Bao moved back to California to be closer to her relatives in San Francisco. Bay City was far enough away from the Bay Area that Bao did not feel smothered by her cloying sisters. Bao had told Starsky about the vacant apartment above hers in the duplex she lived in on a quiet residential street when he was looking for a new apartment.

Starsky fell in love with the place when he pulled in the driveway and saw the trees growing through holes in the front porch and the rear deck that formed a balcony outside the vacant second-floor apartment. “I always wanted a treehouse!” Starsky said as he eagerly got out of the Torino. Huggy and Merle and other friends from Metro, The Pits, and Merle’s Custom Car repair shop had helped Hutch move Starsky’s stuff into the apartment they all referred to as The Treehouse now.

Starsky and Hutch both cracked up laughing when they heard Peaches, the Pekingnese dog that lived downstairs with Mrs. Chen, start barking and howling when the phone rang. Peaches was a friendly dog who jumped up and down, spinning around like a furry ballerina, every time the phone rang or someone rang the doorbell. The muffled sounds of her happiness trumpeted the dog’s elation.

“Hello?” Bao Chen answered. Peaches always jumped on Bao’s lap when Mrs. Chen sat down in the desk chair tucked under the escritoire in her living room. They could hear Peaches making garbled noises that sounded like she was muttering in Martian or some other language only aliens from other planets could decipher. Other dogs on Earth looked at Peaches like she was crazy when she made those sounds.

Peaches had a goofy personality that made her memorable. Peaches had been a puppy when Starsky moved into The Treehouse. He and Starsky preferred big dogs, not yappy little lap dogs, but Peaches had won a special place in their hearts. So had Bao Chen.

“Nin hao,” Hutch replied, saying ‘hello’ in Chinese.

“Good Evening, Ken. How are you?” Bao said in Chinese, “Wanshang hao Ken. Ni hao ma?”

“Jingxi. Ni he taozi zenme yang,” Hutch replied in Chinese saying, “ Fine. How are you and Peaches?” 

“Hen hao,” Bao said, assuring Hutch they were doing ‘very well’. Before she switched to English, Mrs. Chen told Hutch, ‘your Chinese has progressed’. “Nimen zhongguo yi qude jinzhan.”

“Xiexie,” Hutch thanked their patient teacher. “Starsky and I have been practicing.”

Starsky whispered the correct pronunciation of the words Hutch struggled with when Ken faltered. Hutch was determined to learn how to speak Chinese as well as he could speak Norwegian. 

How little French and Latin he could remember from high school classes embarrassed Hutch. Bao told him this was natural because Latin was a dead language seldom used even by clergymen any more. Since Hutch had not met many French-speaking people after high school the knowledge he had gained atrophied from disuse. Starsky’s fluency speaking Chinese was greater than his because he saw Bao more often since they were neighbors.

“By any chance do you have Liu Xiong’s home phone number?” Hutch asked Mrs. Chen as Peaches kept muttering in the Pekingese dialect she was creating.

“No. Did you run out of a herbal remedy Liu made for you?” Bao worried. 

“No. I just wanted to ask him if there are such things as herbal remedies for infertility that people commonly used before prescription fertility drugs were sold in pharmacies.”

Blushing, because she couldn’t imagine a man who looked as virile as Hutch having problems becoming aroused, Bao asked, “Why?” as she frantically flipped through her address book looking for someone else she knew who might know Liu’s home phone number.

Bao had introduced Hutch to Liu, a man she knew from the Huanying Club, a Chinese senior citizens group in Bay City. Hutch was a health food enthusiast who preferred herbal remedies to prescription drugs whenever possible.

“Someone at the station is interested,” Hutch prevaricated. 

When Starsky scowled in disapproval Hutch covered the mouthpiece of the phone and whispered. “Prevaricating is not lying. I’m just being verbally evasive.”

“You are tempting fate by mincing words like that,” Starsky warned, worrying about jinxes.

“Shh!” Hutch scolded, covering Starsky’s mouth with his left hand. 

Never saying the word ‘fate’ was a Viking superstition. If you did, then the three primary Viking goddesses who controlled the destiny of everyone would hear you and pay more attention to what you doing were at the moment. Your fate could change if you said or did something to make them spiteful; unless one of the lesser fate deities they delegated tasks to intervened on your behalf…

Chuckling, Starsky impishly kissed the palm of his partner’s hand.

The impulsive kiss startled Hutch.

A lightning bolt of erotic sensation sizzled from Hutch’s palm into his penis, giving Ken a blissful jolt of pleasure. Lust ignited the fuse in Hutch’s cock. The result was a raging erection Hutch could not conceal because he was wearing tight jeans.

Starsky was intrigued watching his partner squirm trying to deal with his impressive predicament.

Plucking the phone off his lap (because trying to cover his erection by using the base of the phone as a codpiece hurt like Hell) Hutch stood up and began to pace while he talked on the phone like Starsky had been doing when he was talking to Althea.

“Liu would know far more than I do about such matters,” Bao Chen insisted. “But Dong Quai has been recommended for women’s fertility problems for centuries in China just like Chinese Ginseng has been used to improve fertility in men.”

“What?” Starsky asked, when Hutch got a boggle-eyed expression on his face.

Hutch had been taking Ginseng supplements for years because it was supposed to improve concentration, memory and physical stamina. The manager of Fresh Natural Foods recommended it when he told Claire he was a police detective. She already knew he was a jogger because he ran past her produce market every morning. The label on the bottle had emphasized that Ginseng improved physical stamina under the words Recommended For Athletes. 

Under other circumstances Hutch might have been flattered, but today it seemed like the world was full of hidden agendas. Claire was always flirting with him. Was recommending Ginseng her way of making sure his sexual potency would be optimal if they ever made out?

“That’s… helpful,” Hutch stammered as his composure faltered. “Thanks, Bao.”

“Jiaying would know Liu’s home number. They were dating last year,” Mrs. Chen said.

“That’s okay,” Hutch assured their mutual friend. “I didn’t know if that was possible. Now I do. That’s all I needed to know. I’ll pass on the information you gave me. If more information is needed, I’m sure Liu will be consulted. I appreciate your help.”

“Anytime,” Bao assured Hutch, chuckling, as she said, “Peaches is licking the phone. She recognizes your voice.”

“Bye, Peaches,” Hutch said, knowing Bao would hold the phone up to her spoiled pet’s ear. 

Starsky chuckled too when he heard the dog’s distinctive high-pitched whining yowl. 

“I think that was Pekingese for ‘I want to say goodnight to Dave,” Hutch teased, handing the phone receiver to Starsky.

Mimicking the noises Peaches made, Starsky said what he hoped was ‘goodnight’ in Pekingese. Starsky also sang, “Lullaby and goodnight… I wish you lots of dog treats…”

Laughing, Hutch and Mrs. Chen wished each other goodnight before they hung up the phones in both apartments of The Treehouse.

“You love that dog way too much, Starsk.”

“Jealous?” Starsky taunted. 

“Yeah, you give her bones but you never give me one,” Hutch quipped, wondering if his partner would take the bait if he made a joke that was a double entendre.

“Invite me over the next time you’re in the mood to make soup and I’ll bring you what you need,” Starsky bantered.

“Promises, promises,” Hutch scoffed, smiling at his inscrutable partner.

Hoping that Hutch was flirting and not playing word games, Starsky brazenly caressed his partner’s handsome face and said, “You’re cute when you sulk.”

Beguiled by the rakish lopsided grin on Starsky’s face Hutch froze in amazed delight. 

Starsky could almost hear the thoughts stuttering through Hutch’s brain like Morse code… 

Hope made Hutch marvel, I am? Right before his insecurity kicked in and mocked, He’s teasing, you idiot!

Reverently caressing Hutch’s sensual lips with his thumb, Starsky murmured, “Whatever I’ve got is yours, Hutch. Tell me what you need.”

His amazed cougar pounced!

Fingers diving into Starsky’s curls, Hutch kissed Starsky passionately.

Their first kiss was everything Starsky had imagined it would be and more: hot, intense, ravenous, and lingering.

They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. 

Starsky always wore button-front shirts unbuttoned almost to his navel. Whimpering as he finally touched the sculpted muscles of his partner’s hairy chest, Hutch gloated because the adoring caress made his friend moan as their tongues twined while they voraciously kissed.

Starsky’s hands dove under Hutch’s green t-shirt yanking it up and off. Starsky keened in dismay when stripping Hutch half-naked tore those evocative hands away from his body.

“Look at you so strong and blond and mine,” Starsky marveled, admiring the gorgeous body he had partially unveiled. 

“All yours,” Hutch vowed.

Hutch’s voice was like an aphrodisiac. Elated, Starsky smiled and kissed Hutch until they were breathless.

“Now,” Starsky insisted as he led Hutch towards his bedroom while Ken pulled his faded denim shirt out of his darker blue jeans.

Hutch turned Starsky inside out when he tenderly kissed each shoulder he bared as he slowly peeled the clinging shirt off his partner’s strong arms.

Being able to finally touch and savor the powerful muscles flexing in Starsky’s arms thrilled Hutch!

The erotic exhilaration of touching someone taller and stronger than he was tantalized Starsky. 

Mesmerized by how different they looked, Starsky tensed, afraid Hutch would find his chest hair repugnant when they hugged for the first time when they were not wearing shirts. 

Remembering how withdrawn, conflicted, and enigmatic Starsky became after they found John Blaine’s body in a sweltering flop house that was a notorious clandestine rendezvous for male hustlers and their tricks, Hutch feared this interlude would abruptly go sideways if he did anything to make Starsky skittish.

Slow down! Hutch cautioned himself. Starsky is the bravest man you’ve ever met but he’s never experienced a romantic interlude with a man before. 

Hugging Starsky seemed safe. Hutch loved the way their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces whenever they hugged each other. 

“It’s like I was made for you,” Starsky marveled when Hutch gently pulled him close and hugged him tenderly.

“Like the key that opens the lock of my heart,” Hutch murmured between dazzling kisses.

Starsky relaxed when Hutch caressed the smoky curls peppering his chest as avidly as Ken raked those long, talented fingers through the curly hair on his head.

Enchanted, Starsky laid his head on his partner’s broad shoulder kissing Hutch’s fragrant neck as he enjoyed the exquisite texture of all that smooth, golden skin stretched so taut over his friend’s sleek, muscular body. “Your skin is as soft as rose petals, Hutch. You feel as exquisite as you look.”

Pleased, Hutch melted when Starsky kissed him with ardent devotion.

Hands swarming everywhere Hutch babbled, “You’re like quicksilver!” between feverish kisses. “You’re everywhere but in my bed. I want you so much it hurts, Starsk.”

“Not any more,” Starsky vowed, smiling because he knew he had nothing to worry about. Sealing his promise with a smoldering kiss Starsky basked as Hutch wantonly caressed his ass. 

“Have you ever been with a man, Starsk?”

“I never wanted to until I met you,” Starsky confessed between dreamy kisses.

“I’m glad,” Hutch whispered, honored by the awed compliment.

Kissing his partner hungrily, Starsky said, “You’re the one I love. Initiate me, Hutch.”

Beguiled, Hutch kissed Starsky reverently vowing, “We’ll figure this out together.”

Surprised, Starsky said, “You’ve never been with a man either?”

Hutch shook his head ‘no’.

“I thought you had,” Starsky said, intrigued by his partner’s dichotomies.  
“You acted so worldly, almost jaded, when we were discussing John Blaine’s bisexual lifestyle.”

Hutch shrugged.

“Because I realized I was attracted to you long before you accepted that your feelings for me could include sexual intimacy,” Hutch said, grateful that Starsky had finally realized that he wanted to be more than friends and partners.

“I don’t want to marry anyone but you,” Starsky revealed.

“I would marry you tonight if it was legal,” Hutch vowed.

“We can’t get married legally in a church or a synagogue but we can take vows to love, honor and cherish each other in a Temple of Orthia,” Starsky said. 

“What’s that?” Hutch asked, delighted by the smile on Starsky’s face. His partner’s indigo blue eyes were sparkling like sapphires in moonlight.

Tenderly caressing his partner’s smiling face, Starsky whispered, “My Greek ancestors have secretly been worshipping a Spartan love goddess named Orthia for thousands of years. Her name means ‘she who causes erections.’”

“You’re making this up,” Hutch laughed. 

Starsky had a vivid imagination. But this was not one of his fantasies.

“You were born skeptical,” Starsky chuckled, amused by Ken’s incessant stubbornness. “The priestess will sanctify our union.”

Hutch still looked suspicious. 

Ken was waiting for the punchline…

Holding up his left hand as he kept his right arm looped around Hutch’s lean waist Starsky swore, “On my honor as a half-Greek, half-Polish guy with curly hair, I am NOT making this up! Some of my Greek relatives are Pagans too.”

“This is getting interesting,” Hutch said, hope revived as they stretched out on Starsky’s bed facing each as they kissed and cuddled. “I like this MUCH better than Myrtle’s Polish Love Spells of Doom.”

Rollicking with laughter, Starsky said, “I think love goddesses beat thaumaturges.”

“Probably,” Hutch agreed, kissing his impish friend.

“There’s a Temple of Orthia where we could dedicate ourselves to each other a two-hour drive from here,” Starsky told his curious partner.

“Where?” Hutch asked between kisses.

“Fresno.”

Hutch started laughing, then abruptly stopped, when Starsky said, “Quit scoffing, you skeptical blond Viking! Fresno means ‘ash tree’ in Spanish.”

Hutch gaped in boggle-eyed wonder. The first three Viking gods, Odin, Vili and Ve made the first human out of an ash tree according to Norse legends.

Surprise rendered Hutch speechless.

Gloating, Starsky kissed his Norwegian friend.

Hutch had Viking ancestors on both sides of his family tree. He may have doubted his parent’s tales that many of his ancestors were illustrious but Ken had grown up hearing Norse legends like bedtime stories. Starsky had become fascinated by Viking legends since meeting Hutch, especially after they attended a series of lectures at UCLA taught by Hutch’s Aunt Ingrid, a world renowned historian and archaeologist who was considered an expert on Viking lore.

Ingrid’s lectures and books about world history and myths from cultures spanning the globe had awakened an insatiable curiosity in Starsky to learn more about the myths of his mother’s Greek heritage. Hence, his rap sessions with one of his Greek cousins…

“Cousin Dareios, Ma’s fifth brother’s son, told me all kinds of things she will clobber him for if she ever finds out,” Starsky said.

“Such as?” Hutch asked, between kisses.

“Orthian love rites,” Starsky gloated as he unbuckled the belt of Hutch’s jeans.

“I’ve got to be naked to hear this?” Hutch murmured as Starsky distracted him with kisses.

After Starsky unbuckled his belt, Dave reached down and tugged on the denim where his bellbottoms began to flare. Laughing as they kissed, Hutch complied, bending his leg at the knee so Starsky could pull off one of his cowboy boots and toss it across the room.

Smiling when the boot landed with a thud on the carpet, Starsky serenaded Hutch as he removed his partner’s other boot. To the tune of Glen Campbell’s popular tune Rhinestone Cowboy, Starsky sang, “He’s my Vi-king Cow-boy….”

Hutch rollicked with laughter in the middle of Starsky’s king size bed.

“I adore you,” Hutch confessed, capturing Starsky’s smiling face between his loving hands.

“I love you, Hutch.”

“I love you too, Starsk.”

Melting into each other’s arms, they kissed until they were blissfully content.

“I want to see you naked,” Starsky admitted.

“You’ve seen me naked,” Hutch teased.

“In the showers at Metro or at the gym after a workout,” Starsky scoffed. “I can’t stare at you there. People would talk.”

“People already think we’re lovers,” Hutch chuckled.

“Now we will be. Lucky us,” Starsky gloated.

“This was inevitable,” Hutch murmured.

“We’ve felt destined to become friends and partners since we met,” Starsky agreed. “This is just another type of partnership.”

Hutch basked as Starsky appreciatively peeled the tight faded jeans off his long legs.

“My Palomino stallion,” Starsky rambled admiring Hutch’s powerful golden body. 

Flattered that he reminded Starsky of big, graceful animals with golden pelts, Hutch smiled at his smitten friend. 

Hutch’s long, muscular legs were works of masculine art attached to a body of surreal, virile beauty. Starsky was intimidated by the formidable erection tenting Hutch’s hunter green briefs, but he couldn’t wait to stroke that big, beautiful beast. 

Eager to touch what he longed to feel inside him, Starsky reached out and fondled Hutch’s cock as he kissed his handsome friend.

Surging into Starsky’s arms, Hutch groaned plaintively, ripping his underwear off his own hips as Starsky’s hand dove beneath the waistband craving flesh-to-flesh contact.

Savoring the treasure he found, Starsky murmured, “like a sword from Viking stones” when Hutch’s cock jumped into his hand. 

Starsky felt like he was grappling with a lusty merman surging out of ocean waves. Thrilled when the fabric tore when Hutch ripped the briefs from his churning hips, Starsky kissed Hutch ravenously.

Starsky’s demanding hand made Hutch frenzied! 

Loving the way Hutch responded to his intrigued caress, Starsky’s kisses quickly went from tender to torrid when Hutch moaned into his mouth goading him to be bolder with that insatiable tongue. Eager to learn what Hutch liked and didn’t like, Starsky varied the rhythm of his covetous stroking until his partner was keening and writhing in his arms. 

Starsky’s relentless eroticism made Hutch soar into the stratosphere of sexual euphoria. Screaming into Starsky’s mouth as he came, Hutch gushed into Starsky’s hand, spattering his hot semen all over Dave’s groin and muscular torso. 

Licking his own cum off Starsky’s washboard abs was a decadent delight. Those tiny curly brown hairs tickled Hutch’s tongue when he devotedly licked his way down to the bulging fly of those tenaciously tight jeans.

Peeling Starsky out of those jeans, and the skimpy black Men’s bikini briefs he wore, made Hutch feel like a sybarite. 

“Hedonist,” Hutch murmured, salaciously caressing Starsky’s muscular legs, making his partner squirm and bask. 

Overwhelmed by the rugged beauty of Starsky’s chiseled physique, Hutch admired the smiling rogue posing so provocatively on the bed for his eyes to behold.

“Pounce!” Starsky dared him.

“I want to,” Hutch confessed, closing his eyes like he was savoring something delicious.

“I can take yah,” Starsky dared him.

The wanton expression on Starsky’s face was making Hutch hard again.

“You think so?’ Hutch murmured, taunting his friend seductively as he stood at the foot of Starsky’s bed stroking his own cock while Dave avidly watched him.

“Give it to me,” Starsky demanded.

“I want to taste you first,” Hutch insisted, prowling up the bed on his hands and knees lick-kissing Starsky’s sumptuous body.

Starsky moaned ecstatically when he watched and felt those decadent lips reverently kissing his cock. He almost went into orbit when Hutch wrapped those greedy fingers around his cock, tenderly stroking as he licked and sucked.

Enchanted by the taste and feel of Starsky’s captured manhood, Hutch feasted with intoxicating pleasure. Choking on Starsky’s length and girth more than once, Hutch tried to master what refused to be tamed.

As exuberant in bed as he was out of bed, Starsky enjoyed every nuance of sex with Ken Hutchinson. Fighting his elated body, to enhance the anticipation of orgasm, Starsky reveled like he had with no other lover. Hutch was so beautiful, so evocative, so irresistibly compelling...

Starsky came with explosive splendor that excited them both. 

Dazzled and demanding, Hutch pleasured Starsky voraciously until his gorgeous lover was finally spent.

“C’mere,” Starsky murmured pulling Hutch into his arms so he could taste himself on his partner’s wicked tongue.

Hutch fed his tongue to Starsky like a sacrament, savoring the masculine nectar he had just devoured. 

“I made you come,” Hutch murmured, laughing as he kissed Starsky.

“I made you come first,” Starsky reminded his gloating partner. “When I can move, I’ll reciprocate.”

“You don’t have to,” Hutch said, content to snuggle in Starsky’s arms the rest of the night.

“I want to,” Starsky purred, enchanted by the feelings Hutch evoked. He couldn’t keep his hands off Hutch’s excited cock.

Hutch had never felt so happy! Making love with Starsky made Hutch feel like a phoenix reborn from sacred flames.

Surging into Starsky’s possessive hand again, Hutch soared towards another orgasm faster than a horse could gallop. The sexplosion dazzled Hutch like fireworks were detonating inside him.

Starsky’s strength and loving ferocity thrilled Hutch! 

When Hutch’s hot cum anointed him this time, Starsky was completely naked. 

Hutch was halfway to culmination Starsky sated cock revived.

Hutch was electrifying when he was aroused. Every touch, every kiss, every look, every smile, made Starsky feel triumphant: because he was the one fanning the flames of Hutch’s lust.

Starsky felt like he was soaring towards the sun when Hutch rolled on top of him pinning him to the mattress with a yearning kiss.

When Hutch started rubbing against him so ecstatically, a fire ignited in Starsky’s groin too. Every time Hutch wriggled, Starsky writhed.

Their desire for each other was unquenchable.

Tumbling onto his side, Hutch pulled Starsky close even as David reached for him. Bodies twining, they kissed each other senseless. Their cocks rubbed against each other, trapped between their bellies as they thrashed. Their legs were tangled together as ardently as their tongues.

Feeling his cock rub against the rippling muscles of Starsky’s washboard abs drove Hutch crazy with longing. 

The yearning Starsky experienced feeling his aching cock sliding against the smooth skin of Hutch’s flat belly juxtaposed with the sensation created by the friction of their cocks rubbing together created an erotic obsession.

Hands swarming all over each other’s bodies Starsky and Hutch savored the excitement of frottage until they made each other erupt like geysers going off.

The rocketing sensations of mutual orgasm were jubilant!

Coming down from a sexual high like that was a blissful delight.

“We’ll drive to Fresno in the morning,” Starsky rambled as they kissed each other to sleep. 

Elated and exhausted too, Hutch smiled, saying, “We wouldn’t make it to the couch in our condition.”

“Sexual collapse,” Starsky quipped, laughing as he kissed Hutch again.

“I am so glad we have this weekend off,” Hutch sighed.

“Best Friday night of my life,” Starsky said.

Kissing Starsky, Hutch murmured, “Thanks, Freyja.”

Starsky laughed. 

Friday was named after the Viking Goddess of Love.

The End


End file.
